Red Scarf
by Sunny Day in February
Summary: The Netherlands invites both Liechtenstein and her critical brother Switzerland over for Chirstmas. Belgium and Luxembourg are invited as well, though, and fully aware of their brother's lingering feelings for the young lady. But what can they do to bring them closer for Christmas? Silly and fluffy Ned/Liech-one-shot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_A/n1: A nice Christmas-fic about one of the very few OTP's I have: Netherlands and Liechtenstein! It's kind of a follow-up to 'Of Tulips and Lilies', but you can read both stories separate from each other.  
><em>_In this fic, Netherlands invites Liechtenstein and Switzerland over for Christmas. He has got to prove to her and her brother what kind of gentleman he can be. But will everything go as planned, with a disapproving brother like Switzerland at Liechtenstein's side?_

_A/n2: Some info for people who haven't read my first one-shot about this pairing: Liechtenstein and the Netherlands are corresponding with one another by letters. They are something you could call "friends, or at least almost". The Netherlands is in love with Liechtenstein, but Liechtenstein isn't sure what she feels for the tall man, apart from thinking he is scary. She still likes to communicate with him, though, which makes everything even more confusing for the poor girl._

**()()() Red Scarf ()()()**

Each and every week, a neatly-written letter, carefully put into a luxurious (and adorable) envelop, could be found in Switzerland's mailbox, addressed to the – for the human eye – young lady Liechtenstein that also lived in Switzerland's grand mansion.

And each and every week, said young lady would respond on the new letter with mixed feelings of fear and curiosity: what would that strange, scary, tall Dutchman have to tell her this week? Would he try to push his luck, would he try to make an indecent proposal, would he want to meet her? Liechtenstein's fragile, inexperienced heart worried about that sometimes. She was ashamed to admit, but yes, she still thought he was intimidating and yes, she also still thought he was too rough, too different and too mature for her.

But she also wondered about other things, concerning the patient writer of the weekly letters. What did he do last week, what went through his mind, what interested him and what would he want to do later on that week? She _honestly_ wanted to know all these seemingly stupid, not-important things about him and his life – and she found herself amazed and even shocked about that. Because why…

Well, let's just say it was a strange, confusing situation. Liechtenstein didn't know what to do with it, but – in all honesty – she did like the fact she had to do a set task each week. As a small and not very significant country, she often felt bored and left out when watching other European nations. Her brother was busy most of the time, she didn't want to bother him more than was needed – and writing letters to the Netherlands was a fairly time-consuming activity she didn't mind doing too much.

So, for quite some time now, Liechtenstein had been loyally exchanging letters with the Netherlands.

And even though she still was slightly afraid of him, she started to think more positively about him. All thanks to his letters.

He wrote nice letters. Well, maybe "nice" wasn't the right word – he wrote brutally _honest _letters. He never beat around the bush, he told her exactly what was on his mind and he was straight to the point. She could practically hear his monotonous voice echoing through her head when she read letters like these:

'_Dear miss Liechtenstein,  
><em>

_I ate fish yesterday.  
><em>_And I also hid my brother's hairbrush because he annoyed me.  
><em>_And I tricked my sister into paying dinner for me because I'm thrifty.  
><em>_Although Femke prefers calling me a "stingy fucker".  
><em>_She's evil. Don't tell her, but she is. She might look like a nice blonde girl, but underneath all that nice blonde blondeness, she's evil.  
><em>_And bold.  
><em>_Because no hair is underneath her hair, just skin and skull.  
><em>_I think.  
><em>_The fish was the dinner that my sister paid for me, by the way.  
><em>_It was good.  
><em>_Probably because Femke paid for it. LOL.  
><em>_Lol means fun in Dutch, did you know? Well now you do.  
><em>_That reminds me, I should buy some cigarettes. I'll do that right after having delivered this letter.  
><em>_Should I return Maxim's hairbrush? He's an ass, he __**should**__ suffer from the lack of a nice hairdo a little bit longer – but it's kind of depressing to see him wearing those stupid top hats all the time now._

_What do you say?_

_With kind regards,_

_The Netherlands.'_

Netherlands no longer addressed to her by her human name, or tried to convince her to use his human name when she addressed him – and for that, she was glad.

Such _strange_ letters, though.

Still, they made Liechtenstein smile. Not very much, but a little bit. She liked the casual way he talked about his brother and sister. They fought a lot, if she had to believe his words, but in the end, they still were a very close family – the Benelux-siblings, or so they were official called by some nations.

She had wanted to know more about the siblings, so one day, she asked her brother for more information about them. She came at a bad time, however, because Switzerland was polishing some of his prized shotguns and seemed to be in a downright horrible mood.

'The Benelux-siblings? They're all _mad_,' he snorted when Liechtenstein voiced her request. 'The youngest is a workaholic who almost never bothers to come to meetings, the middle sister is a _wretch _who thinks her devilish chocolate is better than _mine_, and don't even get me started on the oldest sibling – that Dutch tightwad – he's even worse than Austria!'

'He-he can be nice, though,' Liechtenstein softly protested, since she felt the need to stand up for the man she had been faithfully corresponding with. 'I'm sure he's kinder than he shows.'

Switzerland snorted even more after hearing that. 'Well, _you_ might think that, but _I _don't like him – and he'll firstly have to prove to me he's a good guy before I change my way of thinking about that tall, stingy, emotionless jerk!'

Liechtenstein found it strange that that comment of her brother made her heart sting a bit. He really didn't like the Netherlands for some reason – how could that be? Then again, this was her _brother _she was musing about – a nice, good-hearted man, but also a man that wasn't all that social and had been yelling and shooting foreign countries off his lawn for decades. It was no wonder he was suspicious about the Netherlands – he was suspicious about pretty much _every_ nation apart from his sister and himself.

But Liechtenstein didn't like it.

She-she didn't know why, but knowing that her brother didn't accept the Netherlands?

She didn't like it.

Not at all.

/\/\/\/\

For some reason, Liechtenstein felt she should let the Netherlands know about her brother's opinion about the Dutchman. In her next letter to him, she told him how sorry she was for her brother's impolite behavior when it was about accepting and liking other countries, and she even wrote she'd like Switzerland to get to know the Netherlands.

No matter how fearful she still felt around the Netherlands, she knew he was a kind man, kinder than she _herself_ had been towards him, so… so she'd like it if her brother could also, somewhere in his heart, see a possibility and give the Netherlands a chance to prove he wasn't too bad.

The Netherlands promptly sent back a card, inviting both Liechtenstein _and _her Swiss brother to spend Christmas at his place, and effectively giving Liechtenstein something that had all the signs of a stroke, but wasn't.

'_My brother and sister will be at my place as well, because Christmas is a family event. Also, I'd like to score points with my maybe-future-brother-in-law, so just come over and enjoy Christmas in the Netherlands._

_The country, that is. Not literally inside ME. But you get the picture._

_Peace out.'_

Switzerland was flabbergasted and reread the letter for at least six more times, before he was willing to believe what the letter said.

'He is inviting us?' Switzerland asked Liechtenstein, confusion written all over his face. 'You told him I didn't like him, right? And he goes and invites us to come and spend Christmas at his place? What had gotten into him! And what does he mean, "maybe-future-brother-in-law"? Is he talking about me? Is he dating you?'

'N-no,' Liechtenstein stammered, 'we just write each other letters… I told you about that…'

'Yes, I know, but I didn't know he was-was _wooing_ you in those letters!' Switzerland dark-green eyes flickered angrily. 'He's way too old for you! And too _Dutch_! Do you have any idea how _direct _those bastards are? How irritating, boring, loud, brash and business-loving?'

'I-I'm just corresponding with him, Vash…' Liechtenstein casted her eyes down. 'Nothing more. I-I… I like him, I think, but just as something like a friend…'

'_Something_ like a friend?'

'Yes.'

'So you're not quite sure _what _he is of you yet?'

'N-no.' Liechtenstein sighed. Why did she inform the Netherlands about her brother's opinion in the first place again? She could have written about anything, really, from ponies and tulips to cats and lilies, but no, she had to go and tell him about how badly Switzerland thought of him.

On the other hand, she had never expected the Dutchman to immediately invite her and her brother to come over like that. It was a rather strange response, she thought – until she reminded herself that the Netherlands was, like Switzerland had said, a _businessman_. He didn't need to get along with everybody – but if he really _wanted_ something, he sometimes needed to strengthen some bonds in order to get what he wanted. And in order to "get" Liechtenstein, he needed Switzerland's approval.

Liechtenstein, as usual, didn't know what to think or feel about it. She supposed she _should _feel pretty insulted about it, but she actually was fairly _flattered_.

And scared, of course.

But oh, well, she was still a young, innocent girl – her wise brother would know how to handle this situation the best, now, wouldn't he?

'I can't wait to give that Dutch bastard a piece of my mind,' her wise brother decided, giving her the card. 'You can write your "friend" that we'll be glad to spend our Christmas at his place.'

'R-really?' Liechtenstein couldn't believe her ears! 'So… you're going to give him a chance?'

But Switzerland made a sour face and shook his head. 'No, I'm going to give him advice – to stay clear from you, for now and for _always_.'

'But—'

'He's up to no good.' Switzerland gave his sister a look that wouldn't accept any protest. 'No man that's willing to court a girl who's a decade younger than him is up to any good. I'm going to convince him to leave you alone – and to stop writing you letters. I've allowed it so far, but now that I know what his true motives are…'

'Vash—'

'I forbid it! Tell him _that_, too,' Switzerland said, and then he walked away, still feeling angry about what that horrible Dutchman was planning to do – whatever it exactly was, he didn't really know, but, like he had told Liechtenstein, it couldn't be _good_.

Liechtenstein stayed behind, with an unsettled, racing heart.

What-what had actually _happened_, now…?

/\/\/\/\

And so, Liechtenstein wrote to the Netherlands that she and her brother accepted the invitation, and that they indeed would come to Amsterdam on the 25th of December. She told him that her brother was allergic to certain kinds of herbs as well – 'please don't make your food too spicy' – and, since her brother had ordered it, she also told him this was the last letter he'd probably get from her, since Switzerland didn't want the two of them to correspond with one another anymore.

She didn't receive a reply.

She did notice her dear brother visited the mailbox more than ever these days, though.

Liechtenstein sighed and batted her eyes down after she had watched Switzerland in the garden, growling at a few letters that were obviously addressed to her, before he had thrown them on the ground _and shot a few bullets through them, what the—_

But alas, she hoped the Netherlands would understand. And if not, she'd do her best to try and explain everything to him during their visit to Amsterdam next week.

/\/\/\/\

Amsterdam, December 25, 10:40 in the early morning.

Switzerland and Liechtenstein are both staring at the slim, but tall and expensive-looking building at the Prince's Canal. It didn't really stand out – it was just a House, completely pressed against another house, that was pressed against yet another house – but there was something slightly different about this particular House, something normal people wouldn't really see, but another specific kind of "people" _would_.

And Switzerland and Liechtenstein, who were those kind of "people", did, but they were surprised to see in what kind of House the Netherlands lived.

'So he actually lives in a regular, none-too-special House, that's a surprise.' Switzerland felt the curious look of his younger sibling focused on him, and he continued. 'Most nations live in pretty big, spacious Houses, you know? Houses that aren't too close to humans. But look at this idiot – his House is _sandwiched _between human houses!'

'Maybe,' Liechtenstein started, 'maybe that's because Mr. Netherlands likes to live in the centre of his country's capital city…'

'Pssh! Of course not, this House's obviously cheaper than the other choices the bastard had,' her brother handwaved her comment away.

'You're both mistaken,' a friendly, but unfamiliar voice suddenly said. 'Daan lives here because it's the closest place to the shop where they sell his favorite brand of cigarettes. That's all, really.'

Liechtenstein's eyes got a bit bigger when he looked at the neatly dressed man who stood on the higher-placed doorstep of the Netherlands' House (they first needed to climb an adorable little stairway, and then they'd be at the doorstep – it was quite complicated to explain and quite cramped, but it was very original, or so Liechtenstein thought).

'Ah.' Switzerland folded his arms and grumped. 'You must be Luxembourg, aren't you.'

The blonde, young man with the stylish-messy hair smiled awkwardly. 'Um… I know we don't meet all that often, Mr. Switzerland, but… but surely you remember me…?'

'Barely.'

'A-ah…'

'I-I don't believe we've met yet, I almost never visit meetings,' Liechtenstein hastily said, in an attempt to distract the disappointed Luxembourg from her harsh brother, and reached out her hand. 'I-I'm Liechtenstein. It's nice to meet you.'

'Miss Liechtenstein!' Luxembourg seemed to cheer right up, although his hair kind of blocked his face so she didn't know for sure. 'Ah, how nice to finally meet the girl my brother talks that much about! You certainly seem to have captured his heart. Quite an accomplishment – I thought only shady, smoke-able things could capture it these days.'

Suddenly, a hand, out of nowhere, slapped the back of Luxembourg's head!

'Ouch!' Luxembourg yelped.

'Don't trash-talk Daan now that he's preparing dinner for us!' Belgium, dressed in a beautiful, teal-colored dress, came out of the House as well, frowning at her younger brother. 'I know he's a pain in the butt most of the time, but come on, he's doing his best to give us a great Christmas party – please be a bit nicer to _and_ about him!'

'You hit me!' Luxembourg whined, rubbing the back of his head. 'And now you messed up my hair-do!'

Belgium flashed a mischievous, cat-like smile. 'Ohh, that bird's nest actually was meant to be a _hair-do_?'

'Wow, Daan was right – you _are _evil!' Luxembourg shivered, and quickly went back inside the House, before Belgium could smack him again.

'I'll get you back for that, you brat – you _both_!' Belgium growled after him. Then, she turned back to the guests, still standing in front of the door, but with kind of worried faces now.

'Hi!~' She grinned again, much broader and kinder this time. 'So! Daans special guest has arrived, huh? That's nice, welcome, Lilli!'

'Nice to see you again, Bella,' Liechtenstein happily greeted her friend back.

'Hey, what about me! I'm a guest as well!' Switzerland complained – but was simply ignored by the Belgian woman as she hooked her arm into Liechtenstein's and pulled her inside, saying 'and how do you like Amsterdam so far – it's a real rat-hole, but a _charming_ one, don't you agree?'

Liechtenstein stammered that it indeed was a very charming rat-hole, and that she was pretty excited to be here, and she stammered more things – many more things – but she couldn't really remember anymore.

Because… because she now was actually _entering_ the Netherlands' House, and she'd see him again in a few minutes, and she didn't know _why _her heart started to race like that, but she was sure it had nothing to do with all the new impressions.

It was a strange realization.

/\/\/\/\

The House of the Netherlands was big and impressive from inside – way more big and impressive than Liechtenstein could have guessed when she and her brother had still been standing outside of it.

It had become evening already, so a welcoming, gentle brightness that came from the tasteful candles, decorations and other cute, little, unexpected sources of warmth and light. Kind colors, like yellow, brown, dark-red and green, were the themes of the many luxurious rooms, and a big and carefully decorated Christmas tree stood in a corner, somewhere where everybody could see it,, prettied up with golden and silver Christmas-balls and even tiny little fake _birds _that had been put in the green tree.

The Netherlands had a pretty well-decorated House, or so Liechtenstein found out as she started to look around the House – on her own, Belgium had said she should go and inspect the place if she felt like it, and she promised she's take care of Switzerland, then – and step by step, she got to know the Netherlands a little bit better.

While she could still hear the loud voices of her brother, Belgium and Luxembourg in another room, she looked at how neat the House was, how well-taken care of the many flowers were she noticed and how amusing the gigantic painting of some sort of cartoon-bunny was, placed over the old-fashioned fireplace in the living room.

She thought she had seen more than enough, then. Liechtenstein smiled a bit, looked away from the funny painting and was about to turn around and walk back to the rest, in the room she had sneaked out a few minutes earlier – when she heard chopping noises.

Curious, she looked into the direction where the sound came from, and understood that the room next to this room had to be the kitchen – the place where the Netherlands probably was cooking a great dinner for his family and guests.

She hesitated – if she walked into the kitchen now, she'd be all alone with him. A thought that both interested and repelled her, which was a very unusual feeling. She paced around in the room she was now for a few more minutes – what should she do, w-what should she do…? – before she eventually decided that it was highly unlikely weird things would happen in the kitchen of the Netherlands, since the man was very strict when it was about kitchens and neatness, he had told her himself in one of their letters.

Also – why did she think he'd do something to her as soon as the two of them were together? He had proven he held her in high regards and respected her. So wasn't her way of thinking a bit unfair?

That did it, and, after a last, deep breath, Liechtenstein entered the kitchen.

The Netherlands had an _amazing_ kitchen. It was huge, at least ten meters wide, and the most modern cooking equipments Liechtenstein had ever seen shone at her from all possible directions. Everything was chrome-colored, the place looked more hygienic than an operation room in the hospital and everything smelled of soap – not a chemical kind of soap, but a flowery, pleasant kind of soap. A kind of soap the Netherlands apparently used to clean his dishes, _before _putting them in the expensive-looking dishwasher.

She found him soon enough in this big, open place, he was working at a kitchen counter, chopping something, with his back turned to her. He hadn't heard her come in yet.

Liechtenstein stood still, in the very middle of the kitchen, and wondered what she should do now.

She felt a strange sensation growing in her chest, now she watched him chopping up all kinds of vegetables, bread-pieces, onions, fruits and even cheeses. She had this weird urge to surprise him – to quietly come closer to him, and the casually speaking up all of a sudden, but… but what if he accidentally cut himself? That wouldn't be a nice surprise at all!

She frowned and thought about it for a bit longer – but that bit longer was a bit too long, because the Netherlands, apparently finished with his… chopping-activities, abruptly put down his knife, put all the fancy bowls with chipped, eatable mysteries on a just as fancy tray, and instantly turned around with all of that in his hands—

–and he almost let everything drop again when he saw Liechtenstein, still fidgeting, looking up at him with a slightly shocked expression on her face – because he had turned around all of a sudden, she hadn't been prepared for that!

'Oh,' the Netherlands said, and would have accidentally dropped everything he was carrying if his guest hadn't hurriedly rushed to his side to put one side of the tray back up.

'C-careful, you… you'll spill everything, and that'll be such a waste!' she stammered.

'Thank you.' The Netherlands slowly strengthened his grip around the tray and muttered 'I got it' before Liechtenstein let go of the tray.

Then things got kind of quiet and even slightly awkward between then. They silently stared at each other, both of them not knowing what to say or do right now. It also didn't quite help that both countries weren't exactly famous for their wildly-expressive behavior, so for bystanders that didn't know them, it must have looked really odd.

But the Netherlands knew Liechtenstein long enough now to be aware of the fact the young woman was extremely vocal in her huge, friendly eyes, and Liechtenstein also realized that a lot more must have been going on behind that blunt, bored expression of the Dutchman. So they didn't judge the other. After all, they knew how emotionless they themselves were – it wouldn't be fair to say that of another person, certainly not in that other person was _that _other person.

'You came,' the Netherlands was the first to finally speak up.

'Yes.' Liechtenstein tried to smile and nodded. 'My brother… Switzerland is here as well, Mr. Netherlands. I hope you have prepared yourself.'

'I prepared dinner,' he said, holding down the tray a bit. 'Look. I chopped things.'

Liechtenstein bit her lower lip to avoid a chuckle from coming out. 'I-I know, Mr. Netherlands, I watched you chop for a while.'

'You spied on me.'

'N-no!' Liechtenstein hastily said. 'I-I didn't want you to cut yourself, s-so I didn't say anything.'

'You still spied on me.' The Netherlands smiled at her – suddenly and very unexpectedly. 'And you came looking for me.'

'I-isn't that normal?' Liechtenstein frowned at him as the both made their way out of the kitchen – Liechtenstein had to run a bit in order to keep up with the Netherlands' speedy steps, and the tall man obviously wasn't even _trying _to speed-walk.

'What's normal?' the Netherlands asked as they crossed diverse rooms.

'That-that guests go look for the host,' Liechtenstein panted. 'Bella and Mr. Luxembourg welcomed us, but… but _you're _the one that has invited us, so…'

The Netherlands stopped walking – just like that. Liechtenstein crashed into him and uttered a startled apology, but when she looked up at him, she could tell by the smallest sign of a smirk that the Dutchman had suddenly stood still on purpose.

'I don't know if that's normal, miss Liechtenstein,' he calmly said as he watched her jump back, blushing. 'But I'm glad.'

'Y-you're glad?' she repeated, confused.

'You wanted to see me.' He nodded. 'That makes me glad. Happy, I mean.'

'O-oh.' Liechtenstein flushed a tad more and averted her eyes.

The Netherlands wanted to say more, but changed his mind when he heard the impatient voices of the others. So he casually beckoned Liechtenstein to follow him, before walking through the last room that separated them from the other guests.

And Liechtenstein came after him, still not sure of how and why her body acted to very quirky.

/\/\/\/\

Now, Liechtenstein had been puzzled about how a bunch of chopped up vegetables and mushrooms and what-not could make a grand Christmas-dinner, but everything was explained as soon as everybody was seated at the big, dark-brown table in the dining room.

'We're going to gourmet,' the Netherlands said to the two – Luxembourg and Belgium were used to his customs, after all – bewildered faces at the table, staring at the broad plates with bits and pieces of raw meat and the bowls with suspicious fluids. They also watched the compact, hot, black griddle that was placed in-between the food.

'In the Netherlands,' the Netherlands continued, pretending not to see the baffled faces of Liechtenstein and her brother, 'it's custom to gourmet: you choose the kind of food you want, you put it on the grill, and you have a nice chat with the others while your food is getting ready. You can put all kind of sauces on your plate, some bread and other tasty finger-foods in the meantime. Like some cucumber. Have some cucumber.'

He practically pushed the plate with pieces of sliced cucumber into Liechtenstein's face, and both Belgium and Luxembourg snickered at that – especially when Liechtenstein shyly picked some sliced off the plate.

Then, without much of a warning, everybody started to put sausages and bits of steak on the grill. The Netherlands wanted to have a mini-pancake, so he poured some of the suspicious crème-colored fluid in a tiny, adorable frying pan, before putting that on the griddle. Liechtenstein was amazed by this unusual way of cooking, in a good way, and softly asked Luxembourg to please put a piece of chicken-filet on the grill for her: she couldn't reach it. She tried to hide her enthusiasm (very unladylike), but they noticed anyway– and the Benelux-siblings all grinned relieved smiles at her and each other, happy to notice the young country appreciated this way of having dinner.

Her brother, however…

'So, what – we have to cook our dinner _ourselves_?' Switzerland commented, glaring at a mini-hamburger sizzling on the griddle like it had personally offended him. 'That's _weird._'

The Netherlands looked a bit annoyed – and hurt, even – but kept silent.

'No, it's _handy_,' Belgium instantly defended him, though, not even looking at Switzerland as she took a sip of her beer. 'You can decide what to eat and what not to eat. Now you don't have to worry you'll insult the cook, because you're your _own_ cook. If you wants some scrambled eggs – there they are, you only have to pour the yellowish mix in a pan and stir it up. You feel like having a strip of bacon? There's the bacon – put in on the griddle and bake it as crispy as you want it to be. It's something like raclette, really.'

'Raclette?' The Swiss stopped complaining and seemed to look at the food and griddle in front of him with an entire other feeling. Raclette was a Swiss cheese dish, based on heating cheese and scraping off the melted part. Like cheese fondue, but slightly different.

Now Liechtenstein could see it, too – it really was a lot like raclette, only with a lot more kinds of food! What a funny discovery! She never knew that something as Swiss as raclette could have so much in common with what the Dutch called "gourmet"!

'Okay, I'll try it.' Switzerland shove his chair closer to the table, rubbed his hands and forcibly smiled at – a nervous-looking – Luxembourg. 'Could you, um, but some of that Gouda-cheese on the grill for me? I've always wanted to try how that tastes, melted and all…'

The Netherlands seemed to glow a little, so happy he was to notice Switzerland was willing to give one of his customs a try. Liechtenstein couldn't help but smile upon seeing that, breathing out a surprisingly big puff of air. Then she saw Belgium, who sat next to the Netherlands, smiling teasingly at her.

'What's the matter, Lilli?~'

'N-nothing, nothing, I was just wondering…' her voice died half-way the sentence, but since she spoke so softly to start with, it wasn't really noticed – except by the Netherlands, who now looked at her as well.

'Are you feeling ill?'

'No, no, I'm fine, I-I'm fine!' Liechtenstein stuttered, and almost tipped over her glass of tea.

The Dutchman raised an eyebrow, but then Luxembourg asked him if he could pass the butter, so he was distracted. Meanwhile, Belgium kept on giggling and shook her head at Liechtenstein.

'You're _not_ feeling fine,' she wordlessly mouthed at her friend.

'Stop that,' Liechtenstein huffily mouthed back.

Belgium gasped dramatically, but then she winked, as if she promised Liechtenstein to stop pestering her with… with…

…

W-with what, really?

Liechtenstein looked at the now grilled piece of chicken-filet that was put down on her plate and swallowed.

Why… why did her heart swell with pride when Switzerland complimented the Netherlands by trying out his cheese? Why was she so happy for him? Why did Belgium seem to see how many times she looked at her brother?

And why _did_ she look at her brother that many times?

'Miss Liechtenstein.'

'Yes!' Liechtenstein yelped upon hearing the Netherlands' voice, looking up from her plate with a jolt.

He blinked dryly at her. 'Your food's getting cold. Don't waste it. It's expensive.'

And then he concentrated himself on his own plate again.

Liechtenstein embarrassedly did the same, wondering if what she thought the Dutchman thought of her really _was_ what he thought of her. And if he thought that she thought that he thought she thought such thoughts about him.

…w-wait, what…?

/\/\/\/\

After dinner, they had pudding for desserts.

It was none too special or flashy, really, but nobody seemed to be that bothered by it. The ambiance was nice and the pudding tasted great and that was all that mattered, really.

Switzerland was finally beginning to feel comfortable and kept talking to Belgium about how her chocolate was, admittedly, pretty darn tasty . Maybe they could invent a new kind of chocolate someday, and blow the world off its seat with it! Belgium – a bit drunk, but not as much as Switzerland was – said she liked that idea and then they toasted on it, immediately having forgotten what they had talked about in the first place afterwards.

The Netherlands was scowling at Belgium ('Please don't get wasted – please don't throw up, either') and cleaning up the table, while Luxembourg was talking to Liechtenstein about his dog Pelutze – a quiet, fluffy animal with a questionable race – he had brought with him, and how much he worried about the pet sometimes.

'Yessee, I never go anywhere without him, unless I do,' he – vaguely – explained to her. 'And when I do go somewhere without him, I think about him constantly. Hic. He's my everything, I really, really love him a lot, and I couldn't imagine ever being without him. Hic.'

Liechtenstein just smiled politely at him. Mr. Luxembourg had drank a lot of alcohol as well, so she didn't really know how to respond to him. In fact, she didn't really know to respond to _any _of the nations still sitting at the table and having a good time, since everybody seemed to be…um… influenced, one way or another. Liechtenstein was too young to drink, even in a tolerant nation as the Netherlands (she had to be 18 human years to be allowed to drink).

However, she had noticed that the Netherlands hadn't drunk a single drop of wine or beer yet either, while she knew from his letter that the Dutchman loved his beers and alcohol about as much as every other standard male. It was a bit surprising – but it was nice as well, she didn't think she'd be able to have a good time if she had been the only sober one sitting at the table.

'I'm sorry,' the Dutchman even said when he came to the table for a fourth time (still cleaning up dishes). 'I had wanted this evening to be special, but instead, my siblings got themselves and your brother pissed – I mean, drunk. I'm so very sorry for that, miss Liechtenstein.'

'You can't do anything about that,' Liechtenstein softly said, feeling her cheeks heat up a little when she saw he looked at her.

He frowned. 'Still, it's no good. Everything I wanted to do is—'

'Okay, okay, can I have – can I have ONE moment of attention, pu-puhleez,' Belgium at a that moment suddenly spoke up, raising from her chair – and her brother stopped talking.

Liechtenstein and the Netherlands both looked at the Belgian woman with mixed feelings, while Luxembourg for some reason needed to point out a very smudgy mark on the tablecloth to the Swiss, which instantly was incredibly humorous to the both of them ('Hee hee, looks like my big brother isn't so clean after all!' – 'You're right! He isn't! Prrrrrffffffft!').

'Now… now!' Belgium started, giggly and wobbly. 'Maxim and I – we think you're an annoying asshole, Daan, you-you know that, dun'tcha?'

'Yea! Dun'tcha?' Luxembourg randomly cried out to Switzerland, who grinned and found him very funny.

The Netherlands snorted, but didn't say a word.

'BUT! We alzoooo… alzoooo know you did your stinking best on this dinner, all to make a good impression on this… this… Swiss army knife.'

Belgium weirdly pointed to Switzerland, how was observing the smudge in the tablecloth from really close now, using a glass as a magnifying glass.

'And we know – we all know – that you really _dig_ my young girly Lilli here,' Belgium continued with a slurred voice, now pointing at Liechtenstein. 'So you know, what, Daan – you did enough for now, you proved you can be a fine host and a patient lover, so – so leave the rest of this stuff to us, _we'll _clean it up, we'll also make sure Switzerland will have… will have a very good time here.'

'As long as there are enough smudges on your tablecloth!' Luxembourg said, almost immediately cracking up about that.

The Netherlands and Liechtenstein both felt kind of embarrassed by the behavior of their siblings, but the Dutchman was curious enough to ask his sister what exactly she and Luxembourg had in mind for him and Liechtenstein to do.

'Walk mah dog!' Luxembourg answered in Belgium's place, tossing Pelutzes leash over the table – almost smacking it in Liechtenstein's face if the Netherlands hadn't swiftly _grabbed_ it out of the air.

'Walk your dog?' he commented.

Luxembourg nodded and Belgium filled in the rest: 'Yeah, why don't you and Lilli go walk Pelutze, hmmmmmmm? Then… then you can be together for a little bit, and experience some… I dunno… _romance_ and stuff.'

Liechtenstein, who had been silently panicking ever since Belgium had made clear she and Luxembourg had apparently consistently making her dear brother as drunk as a lord, got as pale as a ghost and felt like she should protest her friend's odd request…

…but another, smaller, happier part of her hissed at her to, for _heaven's_ sake, keep her mouth shut, and so, she only looked down, to her hands resting on her lap, and swallowed.

'Well.' The Netherlands cleared his throat, making Liechtenstein look up coyly. She jumped a bit when she saw he stared at her again.

'What… um. What do _you_ say?' he asked her, avoiding to look her straight in the eyes. 'I understand perfectly if you don't want to walk the dog with me, but… um. I promise you we'll be back here as soon as possible.'

Liechtenstein rubbed her arm. 'W-well, I suppose somebody needs to walk the dog…'

'That's right, that's right,' Belgium contently said and walked to the hallway, returning with both the Netherlands' as Liechtenstein's coats. 'Here you are, get yourselves dressed a bit and go outside!~ Enjoy the Christmas lights and the corny Christmas songs, and have a good time! A very gooooooood!~ Maxim and I will take care of the rest!'

'Don't demolish my kitchen,' the Netherlands said, a bit of fear ringing in his normally very sturdy voice – but obediently put on his coat.

Then , he even helped Liechtenstein into her coat, which was pretty new and silly for Liechtenstein, but… in a good way. She liked how he made sure she could effortlessly slip into her coat, and she even liked the way he gentlemanly stopped touching her when all that was left to do was buttoning up her coat.

As he picked up Pelutze and put the collar around the dog's neck, Liechtenstein couldn't help but look at him and wonder how the both of them would look like when they'd wander around outside, to-together and everything. He wore a lot of black, she wore a long, white, wooly coat that was almost longer than she herself was. They'd look so different when they'd walk over the streets. Different enough to make Liechtenstein wonder why on earth she was so keen on walking the dog with him anyway.

She felt strange. For the entire evening already, she felt strange. It was strange to have the urge to constantly look at her host, to smile at and about him, to go along with Belgium and Luxembourg's scheme… but she didn't mind it. She was nervous, yes, and a bit scared, sure, but she didn't mind it.

It felt like progression.

/\/\/\/\

Shortly after, the Netherlands and Liechtenstein walked over the streets of Amsterdam, pleasing lights of the many lanterns and Christmas lights (like Belgium had told them) making the entire road shine and glitter in the darkness of the already quite late evening.

They heard Christmas music (that Belgium – she was well-informed, wasn't she?) and they saw other people outside, laughing, making loud jokes and hugging their friends. And although it had to be pretty late already, there were many kids running outside, yelling things at each other she couldn't understand. There didn't drive any cars around – everybody was busy celebrating Christmas, no doubt – so apart from the upbeat chatting, Christmas songs and the noises of a shopping district close-by, they didn't hear anything.

It was a cold night. It didn't snow or rain, but the wind was chilly and Liechtenstein's hands got a bit stiff after walking around with the taller nation in silence for a couple of minutes.

She-she wanted to say something, wanted to talk about something, wanted to… give him the present she had made in secret and that she was carrying now in a big, plastic bag the Netherlands had pretended not to see, but she didn't know how to begin, or what to say. It was a very unusual situation, after all. They must have looked pretty awkward – such a huge man and a tiny girl, walking side by side with a little dog. Still, not a single human being they met on their way gave them disapproving looks. On the contrary – they all wished them a merry Christmas, and then Liechtenstein had found her subject to talk about.

'Um…um, merry Christmas, Mr. Netherlands. I-I don't think I've said that yet, so…'

'That's okay. I haven't said anything like that yet either. So, merry Christmas, miss Liechtenstein.' The Netherlands looked down at her – well, she was just very short, so he had to – and gave her a complicated, conflicted look.

Liechtenstein's heart was squished together for a second. 'Wh-what is it?'

'I was very indifferent to you tonight. Did you like that, or didn't you like that?'

Liechtenstein shook her head, before she could stop herself. It kind of startled her – she responded so directly and honestly! H-how embarrassing!

'Ah.' The Netherlands seemed to light up a bit at that and coughed, trying to hide the small smile that had appeared on his face ' In that case, I'm sorry. I-I wanted to pay more attention to you, because you look exceptionally cute today, but Switzerland. He's creepy.'

Liechtenstein blinked. ''You think Vash is creepy? But you are two heads taller than him!'

'He's your older brother. He slingers guns around like it's nobody's business and he is a wealthy country. _Naturally_ he creeps me out.'

'He's nice, I love him a lot.' Liechtenstein smiled a bit and watched her breathe change into thin clouds. 'He-he can come over as a strict and mean guy, but he wants the best for his country, and for me and my country.'

The Netherlands nodded quietly.

'And…' Liechtenstein hesitated, but forced herself to go on, '…and I'm sorry he thinks so badly of you. And… and that he doesn't let me read your letters anymore. Or let _me_ send _you_ a letter.'

'I already figured out he was behind that, yes,' the Dutchman said, sighing.

'But… but I think you made a good impression on him tonight!' Liechtenstein hurriedly said, making him look at her in wordless uncertainness. 'No, really! He… he really liked the food, and the pudding, and the…'

'The _drinks_?' he sarcastically said.

Liechtenstein had heard the tone and scowled at him. 'Yes, the drinks as well! There's nothing wrong with that!'

'If you say so.' He snorted and frowned, trying to bury his face into his coat some more. 'Ugh. I should have put on a scarf. You and your cuteness made me forget about putting on a scarf, you know that? Now my neck is cold and it's all thanks to you.'

The Netherlands' half-gruff, half-teasing comment reminded Liechtenstein of her present, and she gasped.

'We-we should sit down!'

'What?' the Netherlands gave her a confused look.

'We should sit down, right now, I-I have—!'

Liechtenstein was so excited all of a sudden, she could only stare at the Netherlands and restlessly swing around her bag. The Netherlands watched her enthusiasm for a moment, getting more endeared and redder by the passing second, before mumbling that there was a wooden bench at the artificially ice-skate-park they were close by right now.

So they went there, sat down on the bench and looked at the skating people on the fake "ice". They didn't know how long they watched them – Netherlands was too busy wondering what Liechtenstein had for him and Liechtenstein was too busy gathering her courage to hand him over the present she herself had made for him.

But, eventually…

'H-here you go.' She pulled out the carefully-packed present from the plastic bag and swiftly gave him the package. 'For-for inviting me and my brother over.'

The Netherlands' dull eyes stared at the package for a good minute, before he slowly started to unwrap the present.

'Oh. This is very nice of you,' he stammered, after realizing the younger nation had knitted a scarf for him. 'I just needed one of these. This is… um… well, thank you very much, miss Liechtenstein. I'm afraid I don't have anything—'

'You were the host,' Liechtenstein said, blushing gleefully as the other personification started to wrap the scarf around his neck. 'You don't need to give me anything in return – this… this dinner and such is enough.'

She furrowed her brows when she noticed the Netherlands was putting the scarf on incorrectly. It was a very lengthy scarf, you see, since he was a very tall nation – no, it… it didn't make sense now, but when she was knitting it, it seemed to be a very logical thing: long nations, long scarves, or… something like that…

My, he really didn't know how to put it on, now, did he?

'No, not like _that_.' Liechtenstein gave the Netherlands a grumpy look when he clumsily attempted to casually light a cigarette – while wearing the boa constrictor-scarf – and turned to him, untying the wooly, red mess of something that was meant to be a wearable item around his neck.

The Netherlands let her, of course, but he also froze on the spot as he watched her focused eyes, big and concentrated, and he almost let his cigarette drop when those same eyes suddenly looked up at him. Oh – she was close, she was very close, she was closer than she had even _been_, even.

Liechtenstein only _now_ seemed to see how close she actually was to him, really – but instead of pulling back and muttering a few shy words of apology, she simply wrapped the scarf around his neck again, trying not to look at him, but peeking at him every now and then anyways.

'I'm still in love with you,' he said.

Liechtenstein flinched, but only for a moment, and gave him a faint smile. 'I-I know, Mr. Netherlands.'

'You… kind of look like you've fallen in love with me as well.'

Then, he bit the inside of one of his cheeks, internally cursing himself for thinking out loud like that.

'I have,' Liechtenstein said.

'You have?'

'I have.' Liechtenstein gulped and flushed rapidly, still fumbling with the scarf. But then, she suddenly stopped doing that, and sat down again, staring into the distance.

The Netherlands did the same.

For a couple of minutes, they both sat and stared there, like two very emotionless beings, as if both of their freaked-out hearts weren't actively trying to burst through their chests.

'I'm too old for you,' the Netherlands said.

'That's what Vash says as well,' Liechtenstein replied, 'and… and he's right. I agree.'

'But I'll wait for you.'

Liechtenstein looked to the side again, her hands squeezing the edge of the bench. 'W-wait for me?'

'You're still an aging nation. You might be fifteen human years old now, or something like that, but… but you will get older. You will get to be an adult nation, one day. And till that day comes, I'll wait for you. If you let me wait, of course.'

Liechtenstein didn't had a suitable response to that, so she smiled and nodded.

'If… if you're willing to wait for me, you may. But I'm sure you can get someone better than a foolish girl like me. I-I don't know what love really is, you see, I-I just know I get these jolts that feel a lot like love when I'm… with you.'

The Netherlands took a risk and scooted a little closer to Liechtenstein, almost unnoticeable. Still, Liechtenstein noticed, but didn't stop him. She breathed in and out slowly.

'You're no longer scared of me…?' the Netherlands asked, sounding uncharacteristic vulnerable.

She breathed a little faster. 'I'm terrified of you, Mr. Netherlands.'

And then, she did something unexpected – yet again. She took his scarf, with both of her little hands, and yanked him closer to him. She harshly pressed a kiss on his lips and the Netherlands dropped his cigarette.

It was just a peck – just a quick, impulsive action from a silly, tiny girl that looked at him differently than she did half a year ago. It was small and insignificant. It was petty, even.

But the Netherlands thought it was more than that, much, _much _more than that, and he'd happily drop even more cigarettes on the ground for her – he'd even drop his pipe, his other pipe, and yet another pipe on the ground, all to make sure that this actually really was happening.

Liechtenstein let go of him with a shaky, instable breath, keeping her head down as she collected her own face in her hands and felt to her horror how hot and awful it felt.

She wanted to stammer she was sorry, she wanted to let him know she didn't mean to… to _violate _him like that, all of a sudden, and she wanted to do all of that without having to lift as much as her head. She was so ashamed… so very ashamed!

But the Netherlands put a hand underneath her chin and easily made her look up at him.

He even made less effort to bluntly return her kiss, simply pressing their lips together again, ignoring the startled mewl Liechtenstein let out, and gently rubbed her chin as she clutched his scarf so very tightly she thought it would rip.

But it didn't, and she trembled over her entire body when the older nation finally backed off and gave her some more space.

'Elise.'

'Y-y-yes,' she stuttered, gripping his wrists aimlessly.

'Pelutze has pooped.'

'…what?'

The Netherlands nodded to the white dog, sitting in front of the bench and looking really relieved.

'Pelutze has pooped,' the Netherlands repeated, 'we should return to my place.'

'Oh.'

'And fast, too.' He looked around him worryingly. 'Dogs aren't allowed to take a dump here, and I don't have paper bags with me to clean it up.'

Liechtenstein stared at him – and he still held her face, and he still caressed it, very tenderly and carefully – and chuckled nervously.

'T-then we better get going, I-I guess.'

'Yes.' He let go of her face and they got up from the bench. 'Before things happen.'

Liechtenstein flushed but nodded in agreement. 'Y-yes. That… yes.'

'Let's go.'

'Yes.'

They walked back home in the same silence as they had left, but things felt differently now.

Maybe that was because the Netherlands kept one of his hands out of his coat-pockets now, and Liechtenstein had grabbed it.

And held it.

The entire way back to his House.

/\/\/\/\

What happened after they got back is not very interesting.

Belgium and Luxembourg had made a mess from the kitchen and the Netherlands got angry at them for that. Switzerland had fallen asleep on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Liechtenstein reverted back into her role as the shy and introverted girl.

She patiently waited until Switzerland had gotten sober enough to travel back to his country with her again, and when they got back, it was like everything that had happened in the Netherlands actually hadn't happened at all.

But it _had_ happened.

And she was glad it had happened, because if all of that hadn't happened, if all of that really hadn't been more than just a strange, yet much-needed dream, Switzerland wouldn't have given changed his mind about that 'weird, but okay-guy'.

'His cheese is wonderful and his beer's – well, it's amazing. I had a great time,' he told Liechtenstein, a couple of days later, when he came back from outside. 'Here – this one came in for you.'

Liechtenstein's eyes grew twice in size as her brother handed her over a envelop that could only belong to one man. She was mesmerized. Her brother could change his opinion about one guy that fast, based on food and drinks?

Well, it didn't matter. Not at all.

She smiled happily and wanted to beam a thankful smile at the Swiss, but he had walked away again, mumbling something about 'allowing' and 'not _that_ much older'.

And that was all the confirmation Liechtenstein needed.

**Fin**


End file.
